Ratatoing: A Memoir Chapter 1
by GregTheMouse
Summary: Greg the Mouse needs to tell you the story from his side of things, from Ratatoing


Ratatoing: A Memoir

Chapter 1

"Greg! Come inside, Greg, it's Thursday night!"

The voice reverberated off of the cold street and into my ears, which are very big. Carol stood shrouded in the doorway, her slick figure barely caressing the sides of the door, where she was standing. I looked over at her, then back up towards charcoal clouds cooked among the red and orange flames of the dying sun. A storm was coming and the winds were picking up. Marcel Said there was going to be a Cataclysm, something very bad on the horizon. All I knew was that I didn't get tipped enough tonight. I headed inside.

Carol ushered me into the backroom of Ratatoing, our amazing restaurant. Ratatoing was founded by Marcel and myself many years ago. He used to be a relaxed mouse who would wax philosophy and culture and food with me as we came up with the freshest ingredients, but the stress took a toll on him.

"Greg, where have you been? We are gonna be late!" Marcel stood tapping his foot on the ground, stirring the giant cauldron of food we use to cook all of our ingredients, which are the freshest.

"Sorry Marcel, but I wanted to make sure that Octavio locked up." Octavio was forgetful, but also one of the best damn waiters in all of Rio. He put to shame even Carol.

"Sure spent a long time outside…"

"Precisely."

"now boys, we have a lot of work to do tonight, " Carol said, her eyes glistening as the flame below the giant cauldron danced, "We need to get ready for our heist. "

"The Gorilla have mercy! I forgot that was tonight. Let me take my new chef hat off and get my night vision goggles on, "Marcel said.

We entered The White Void and I started to slip on my disguise ears. Ratatoing couldn't maintain its reputation as a fine culinary establishment without an edge on the competition. Mice around here had taste buds that were diverse as a map and as cutting edge as a huge knife that Is very sharp, like more than a sword that kills people. The competition was tough, but we had our ways. We steal food from the human restaurant, all under the nose of a cat who we pay off. We had some competition that tried to muscle us out of the action, but we sent them away to a lab to be tortured forever for science. After our documentary came out, many mice tried to steal food from our location but were devoured by the cat.

"Everything ok, Greg?" Carol walked over to me, her hips gyrating up and down as she moved her legs up and down. Carol was always vibrant and in tune with feelings, unlike Marcel.

"Yah, everything is Ok. I just can't help but think about what Marcel was telling us earlier."

"What, about The Gorilla sending flying saucers to those who don't follow Marcel's teachings?"

"yeah. Doesn't that frighten you? I don't want to be taken by flying saucers…"

Carol smiled at me and snapped on her helmet. "Greg, Marcel is just joking. Don't take him so seriously."

Marcel looked in our direction and then looked away. I wanted to tell him something, but I forgot what it was.

We posed in The White Void, kicking and grunting and dancing and running. I'm not sure why we did what we did. I think it started as a joke, the adrenaline of stealing something not ours mixed with a sort of youthful playfulness. Now we were just compelled to do it. We told ourselves that it was born out of some sort of compulsion. We told ourselves that we had to do it because we were compelled. But beneath the veneer it was an absurd act, an empty gesture to a nonexistent god. We walked out of The White Void, sweaty and pumped up, and into the tunnel.

I jogged up to Marcel and wrapped my arm around Marcel. "What are we gonna get, buddy?"

"What?"

"I said, what are we going to get. For food."

"Oh right…"Marcel looked off towards the blinding light of the human's kitchen ahead of us. "I think we should focus on maybe getting some asparagus, I've always wanted to turn that into a soup."

"No strawberries?"

Marcel looked at me, and he smiled.

"No strawberries."

The smile faded.

"It doesn't really matter what we get, to be honest. We can get rich off of selling mice dirt, if we wanted."

"That doesn't seem right."

"stealing isn't right greg. They shot a Gorilla in the north. That wasn't right. There are people who laugh and jest about me on my facebook, treating me like a joke. Laughing, laughing. None of that is right, Greg, but we have to remember that the world is like a spinning top perched on a pin needle- one sway of a new wind and it all comes tumbling down. The Gorilla told me this."

"How come I haven't ever seen this Gorilla?" I said, scratching under my disguise ears.

"Have a little faith Greg. It goes a long way in the wasteland of existence."

I stopped talking to Marcel and let my mind wander. It seemed so strange how the restaurant changed since our documentary. We were constantly swamped with customers who would stand outside our doors for hours, some even for days. Marcel was always a people pleaser as much as he was socially anxious. The two coming together wasn't great for him, and he would often spend time in the kitchen trying to make sense of his surroundings, breathing heavy into a paper bag. Carol was always there by his side, whispering into his large mouse ears. They were quite a pair, always together but never together, if that makes any sense. They were constantly tug of warring between romance and friendship, and I watched it all unfold. A

After the documentary, Marcel began to obsess over facebook, trying to find a way to reach customers, but was met time and time again with a barrage of jokes and insults mocking him and his food. He was fine with the insults against him (sometimes it seemed like he didn't even register), rather, it was when people made fun of his food that he became angry. And this was all before the ghosts had taken over Ratatoing too.

"We're almost there, are you two ready?" Carol asked from the back, her slender fingers delicately guiding her along the dark wall.

Marcel looked back at both of us, and put down his night vision goggles.

"You ready Greg?"

I snapped my disguise ears comically.

"Precisely."


End file.
